Ace of the deck
by Flipdarkfuture95
Summary: The stage is set, the hand has been dealt. Courier Six is ready to push the Legion out of the Dam. He will rise to the top, and fall to the bottom. His actions will make, or break nations. Even a small act can change history.
1. No Gods! No Masters!

**Fallout New Vegas**

**Ace of the deck**

**By Flipdarkfuture**

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><p>Chapter 1: No Gods! No Masters!<p>

**_Camp McCarran, south-west tower._**

The Sun rose over the eastern mountains, filling Vegas with a radiant glow in the early morn. It was a glorious sight to some, a grim sign to the NCR, and an omen to the Legion, but to Private Hudson it was just fucking annoying.

He slumped against the inner wall of his tower post, dirt-coloured boots touching the rail in front of twitched and pawed his nose "No...I don't wanna be a Lucky Lad snack cake you tap-dancing Deathclaw!" He murmured violently as the sun shone on him. He suddenly yelped as he woke up, and swung his service rifle around, hitting himself in the face.

"Shit!" he yelped, he opened his eyes and looked around. He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek, "stupid sun" he muttered darkly.

_Must have fallen asleep again, Sarge ain't goanna be happy_. He stood up, hefting a battered service rifle. James Hudson was only 1 year into his service with the Army, and for six months of that year, he'd been stationed in Camp McCarran, utterly terrified half the time because of the Fiends (until recently), but mostly because of Drill Sergeant Mendez. And utterly bored the other half, he did get some excitement one time when he threw golf balls off his post, denting Mendez's favourite helmet, it was totally worth it. He was itching for something new to come into his life, something exciting, something life changing. But that sort of thing never came to him.

He studied the area below his watchtower; a ruined road hugged the wall of Camp McCarran until it got to the Vegas wall and branched off left and right, heading east and west respectively. He hummed tunelessly as he walked around his post, stretching his muscles and rolling his neck as he looked out at the perimeter. He then noticed a huge line of hulking steel creatures walking up from the south-eastern road leading into New Vegas, kicking up a lot of dust. He noticed that some of the creatures carried what appeared to be strange laser rifles and laser gats. "Oh fuck!", he quickly turned around and rummaged through his rucksack, trying to find his radio, knocking several of his things off the tower in the process, when he found his radio, he quickly switched to channel 40. Static answered him. "Goddamn it", he switched over to channel 50 and tried once more, he succeeded. "Umm...Major Dhatri, Sir?" He cautiously asked.

A gruff voice answered back "Yes, Hudson what is it?" Hudson stammered "Umm there seems to be a large horde of...Steel Creatures headed this way, from the southeast road Sir!" Hudson explained awkwardly, "Say again, Private?"

"Just see for yourself sir..." he replied, he clicked off the handheld and checked his ammo. And began to pray.

* * *

><p>Major Dhatri turned off his hand-held, putting it in his breast pocket. And hefted a Old World M-4 Carbine and ran to McCarran's front gate, calling over a couple of Privates and even Corporal Betsy and 10 Of Spades, Dhatri stopped and asked them both why they weren't at Hoover Dam<p>

"Because, a Soldier recovering from psychological and physical Trauma, is not allowed to take place in any large scale operations _Sir." _Corporal Betsy replied, clearly she was a bit pissed about it.

"Alright then, what about you Spades?" Dhatri asked

"I-I-I-I- would never abandon my-my-my-my Partner, Si-Sir!" Ten Of Spades proudly stated, no-one challenged him about that topic.

Dhatri nodded "Good enough, son." They continued to the gate, stopping at the sand bags. Dhatri motioned for the gate guard to open it up, with a mechanical screech the Gate slowly slid up its rusting rails, finally coming to a stop five seconds later. Dhatri and his group ran outside and towards the outskirts, towards the steel creatures. "Close the gate private! We ain't back soon, bring the rain!" Dhatri shouted as they ran down the dusty and broken road. Behind them, the guard grimaced and nodded. he shouted back "Yes sir, good luck!"

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><p>At the head of the line of Knights and Paladins, Ramos studied his surroundings, the ruined husks of old buildings lined the side of the New Vegas side of the Road, limiting one's view when looking at New Vegas from a distance. The long line marched past the road that branched off to the North, leading to New Vegas. Ramos then noticed a group of NCR soldiers running down the freeway towards them, the line started to break into squads to engage them when Ramos shouted<p>

"Stand down! We're not here to fight them!" The line of soldier mumbled and whispered as they got back into formation.

Hardin barged his way through the line towards Ramos, he sighed inwardly as the angry man stomped towards him. "Yes, Head Paladin?" Ramos enquired, Hardin thrust his face in front of Ramos "What the fuck are you playing at Ramos? Those are NCR shitheads coming towards us and you want us to stand down?" Hardin shouted. Ramos stopped dead in his tracks, bringing the company to a halt, he turned and looked Hardin square in the eye "Yes, I do because we're not here because of them! We're here to fight the Legion at the Dam, the _Courier_ and his Securitrons will be the ones who will drive off the NCR, peacefully." He struggled to drive off the urge to disconnect Hardin's air supply. "Now shut the fuck up and get back in line!" Ramos said as he shoved past Hardin, and stalked towards the NCR soldiers.

Major Dhatri was surprised to see a lone Paladin relinquish his weapon to one of his subordinates and walk up the Road alone. Corporal Betsy's hands bunched up into fists as she watched the Steel Figure walk up towards them, the Privates on either side of her trained their rifles at him, she doubted a few rifle shots would even dent that armour. Major Dhatri relinquished his rifle as well, handing it to one of the Privates; the private blinked, and took the weapon with shaking hands. "I'll be back" Dhatri said, and walked towards the lone Paladin, unarmed.

They met in the middle of the Road, standing a few metres apart from one another, everyone was silent as they stared at each other. Ramos removed his helmet and cradled it in his arm "senior paladin Ramos, brotherhood mohave chapter." he thrust his armoured hand in a greeting.

"major Dhatri, New California Republic Army, Mohave detachment" Dhatri replied. he craned his neck, studying the long line of soldiers in the distance "May I ask why a large group of brotherhood soldiers are heading towards the Dam?" Ramos shrugged "The Courier needs our help in driving the Legion back". Dhatri couldn't place who he was but he remembered what he did. "_Courier...Courier...oh crap, what the hell is he up to now?" _he groaned "What is he doing now?".

Ramos raised a eyebrow "You know him?", Dhatri laughed "Know him! Boy he helped this base get back on its feet!". He then turned to Ramos, a question forming "Why are you Brotherhood pansies taking this route? The I-95 would make more sense, it runs closer to the banks of the 'Rado."

"Simple, we don't to give the Legion a premature heart attack just yet, we'd like for them to piss in their collective pants during the battle." Dhatri was actually surprised by that. All stories he heard painted the Brotherhood as a stubborn pack of Old World hang-ons hiding inside old suits of armour. Not so with these guys. He didn't want to admit it, but he agreed with their plan. he sighed. he was going to cop hell for doing this. He called out to the assorted troopers "Back to McCarran, soldiers. Let them pass." he turned to Ramos, "If he's fighting the Legion, he won't do much much better then a whole company of power armoured troops. Good luck."

Ramos returned to the head of the line, he motioned for the whispering and grumbling to stop. "Let's go men, we can't be late for this one."

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><p><em><strong>Hoover Dam barracks, West quadrant.<strong>_

A woman in a brown tanktop brushed past Poindexter as he made his way to the rec room. He didn't like the rec room, it was too...plebian for his tastes, why should someone of his caliber have to stoop with the other rank and file morons? He muttered under his breath as he walked down the dirty industrial corridor, lights all along it kept sputtering and winking. Damn lights, we're in a hydro-electric dam, supplying electricity to one of the biggest power hogs around, and it can't power a few lights for itself? He came up to the pneumatic double doors, muffled laughter and shouting coming from within. He curled his hands into fists, and opened the door. A few soldiers and engineers in the corner had commandeered a rare intact couch, haphazardly sprawled across its soft surface. The black and white tv in front of them had the shittiest recepetion possible, due to being in the bowels of a Dam and kilometres away from the nearest intact tv station. He watched with barely concealed contempt as a cartoon rodent skillfully outwitted a larger dim-witted cat.

The group laughed even harder as the Cats head was crushed beneath a primitive anvil. He snorted derisively and walked towards the smoke ensconced poker table, where the other members of his so called 'Squad' waste money and time. Mags looked up from her hand as he walked over "So coming to play Poindexter? We have room for one more sucker" she gestured to O'Callahan, who looked like a lost puppy as he tried to make sense of what was in his hand. the other three players on the table barely noticed as he sat down. One of the three players, a caucasian man with a red beret, puffed a cigar as he rolled his eyes "C'mon Mags, hurry up and lose. Its inevitable."

O'Callahan looked up from his hand "Be quiet and let her decide, mister '1st recon', she'll clean you out in two hands." Gorobets let out a small chuckle as he glanced at him, his eyes narrowed "Is that right, Farmboy? I'd better teach you youngsters how they played back in the old country. Now, the action is on you blondie." a huge condescending smile on his face. Oh, Mags will show him!

Mags looked up at the others, trying to conceal her desperation. Her hand was kaput, and she had already commited in this round. 150 caps were about to dissapear from her life, and she could say goodbye to good'ol dignity too. But she would stand resolute. She would make a move so great that it would compare to Dean Domino. So, she bluffed. "While I would be content to just sit her and watch you grow old, Sir. I reckon I've won the pot here, so I am just going to watch and see what your hand will be. As for me? well lets just say I'm rocking the boat." she folded her arms, trying to keep from laughing, and ruining her gamble, she always got the urge to laugh in tight situations.

Gorobets scrutinised her, trying to ferret out a reaction as he went for his meanest glare possible. If a veteran sharpshooter or punk-ass Ranger wets themselves whenever this look is unleashed. Surely some upstart corporal would absolutely fold under his fury! But now he wasn't so sure, she was crafty and resourceful, and had skillfully wiggled out of every trap her threw at her, perhaps he could go after her private instead. He leveled the stare at O'Hallahan, "so O'Hallahan? You doing good so fa-"

the loudspeaker interrupted him, "all personnel, all personnel, report to your sectors, stand by for orders." the speaker clicked off as the room burst into chaos. The group by the tv rushed out of the room, heading off in several directions, Mags went to stand up, she stuck her hand out to Gorobets "Major, its been fun" Gorobets just nodded and shook her hand "Good luck corporal" and darted out of the room towards his barracks. Mags and O'Callahan grabbed Razz, he complained "Hey! I ain't done armwrestling!" a dark look on his face, Mags rolled her eyes "Plenty of that to go around when the Legion comes a'knocking, come on!" Poindexter rolled his eyes, contempt absolutely dripping off of him "I liked it better at Camp Golf." he calmly walked out of the room, disappearing into the crowd of soldiers and engineers.

The two soldiers dragged their comrade towards the lockers. A cabinet swung noisily in the abandoned rec room, and the pile of cash on the table forgotten. There was Solderin' to be done.

Author's note

I really don't like including Author's notes as I think they break immersion in the story, but this one is needed.  
>As you probably guessed this fic starts just before Hoover Dam, and will chronicle the first year and a half of a independant new vegas, the Courier and his companions won't be the only people who I will focus on. All sides will get the spotlight. Even Ullysses will have a chapter or two. There are chapters that wills also focus on the DLCs, most importantly, Dead Money, Lonesome Road and Old World Blues.<p>

For now, stay tuned, viewers! And have a pleasant time in post apocalyptia!


	2. The Bear, The Bull, The Wolf

**Chapter 2: _The Bear, the Bull and the Wolf_**

_Eastern Bank of the Colorado, east of Boulder City._

The Courier watched the sun rise over the eastern horizon, letting it warm his face. He never got used to how stunning the Mohave was at sunrise, and sunset. His cheer sank a little as he focused on the mass of red and black tents across the Colorado, Boone was next to him, perched behind a rock on which his sniper rifle lay, letting him focus on areas and people that Six couldn't see. The sun reflected off his sunglasses as he glanced at Six, for the first time doubt flicked across his features "Boss can I say something, about this operation?" Six kicked a rock off the cliff "Sure, man, what is it?"

Boone shifted uncomfortably "To be honest, I don't know if this will work out well for us, the Legion outnumbers us and the NCR put together at 20 to a head, our 'army' constantly argues, and the only tactical assets we have are known to blow up any one who comes knocking on their front gate, excluding you of course. Our reinforcements are still a couple hours away, and have to pass through many different factions to get here. Not to mention the NCR may be a bit pissed off to see us there." He sighed and took of his aviators, rubbing his eyes. "I just...don't know what good we'll be over there. The NCR already have a strategic plan, and have tactical options. I mean, I know we have Tribals who were born into explosives, firearms and bombs, and there is also the Brotherhood, who are probably the most professional soldiers here. But this is the first time they've travelled beyond Hidden Valley, being in a hole for most of your life won't prepare you for the outside. The thing is Jack, we have specialists, but we don't have soldiers." He let loose a bitter laugh "and I hate to say this, but the only real soldiers here are each older then us by a long shot, and possibly half as sane." Six laughed, something he hadn't done .

he turned around, watching the little camp at the bottom of the hill. He saw Rex, curled up around ED-E, the only sound coming from him was the whirr from his robotic parts, which also came from ED-E. Who seemed to beep at a quiet and slow pace. Arcade walked out his tent and yawned, his glasses nowhere to be seen. Lily tended to the pack Brahmin, quietly whispering to them as they grazed from her gigantic hand. A ways out from the camp, he spotted Cass and Veronica stalking after a pair of Golden Geckos, fairly big ones too. They worked well together. Raul wowed the Boomers with his skills with a six-shooter, hitting 6 empty cans with 1 bullet each, in the space of 12 seconds. He twirled his 44 in the style of the Vaqueros of old, and bowed. They cheered and laughed with him as they all sat down around the fire.

The Remnants were out of their power armour, there wasn't much point wasting the fission battery on them. They tended to their armour, fixing up holes, rewiring some circuits, general maintainence. He watched Cass and Veronica as they dragged the two Geckos behind some rocks to gut and strip them. Despite all he had accomplished, despite all the people he had met, despite the changes he helped bring about. He still wondered if all of this was going to work out, he sat down on a rock, and took off his black desperado hat. He was just a Courier for crap's sake! A messenger, someone who just delivers parcels to people. He wasn't cut out for this, and he knew it.

Raul came over to where he sat, he crossed his arms "You do realize no-one accomplished anything by sitting on a rock and brooding, Boss?" he teased, Six didn't respond, Raul lowered himself to Six's level, groaning slightly as his old bones protested. He ignored them.

"Boss...Jack. Listen to me for a second, alright? I don't hand these pep-talks out often." Six looked up at him, paying attention. Raul continued "You may not be cut out for what you plan to do, you're right about that. But you were there, at the wrong place but at the right time, and that makes all the difference in the world." Six seemed to perk up for a bit, "No-one is born into a role, they have to grow into it. The difference between you and me? Apart from a face that doesn't look like it made out with a belt sander?" Six laughed a bit, Raul smiled. "This role was your choice, and yours alone."

Six focused on Raul, noticing that his eyes glistened with wetness "My role? Was forced on me when those bastards killed my sister." he took on a dark look, but continued "All my life I was forced to assume a role, when the bombs fell I took on a peacekeeper role at my family's ranch, in Mexico City? A silly old legend. When I started to turn into this? A burden. I was cursed to always have this forced upon me, to always become a danger and a hazard to those close to me. When you found me, I was actually about ready to give up." Six jumped slightly as Raul suddenly laughed bitterly "But I'm rambling aren't I? Old people tend to do that, kid. Anyway the points is I will always be there for you, now matter what you do." Six was speechless, he gave Raul a nod "Thanks Raul, gather the others, I've got a speech to make." Raul smiled "Right away, Boss."

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><p><em><strong>Eastern bank of the Colorado, Legate's camp<strong>_

Caesar stood in front of his Legion, clasping his hands behind his back. The Legate stood by his side, as still as a statue.

"Today! Is a glorious day! my Legion" He roared, letting the sight of his legion fill him with pride and devotion.

he swept his arm out in front of him "Today, the Profligates will feel the Horns of the Legion and they will fear us! They will fold in front of us like Barbarians did before Civilisation!" his fist clenched, he continued.

"My Legion, today the great stone wall will tremble under our glorious march west. Any heathens who are in front of our might will be swept aside like garbage!" He paused for a bit, letting the cheers of the Crowd Overwhelm him, giving him renewed focus "I shall humbly step aside from this Great Battle, and let the honour of leading belong to our mighty Legate!"

"I know not what the Bear plans, but know thi-" the sound of cheering from across river interrupted him, though irritated he didn't let it show as he continued "The NCR dare I say it, are not the fools we took them for in the last battle" Veterans of the horde grumbled and shouted as they remembered what happened last time they attacked Hoover Dam. "This time, we have the advantage of a spy network in the NCR; we know the Profligate's tactics, their strengths and weaknesses as well!" Caesar drew his Gladius from its scabbard and shouted "My Legion...prepare for war! March onwards, to victory!"

The horde shouted in unison "True to Caesar! True to the Bull!" and marched towards its staging area.

Caesar watched proudly as his mighty Legion marched forth once more, most active soldiers in the Legion were here, ready for the final push that would topple the Bear. He clenched his fist as he remembered the first battle. Many good men died in that battle, all because of the NCR rangers and partly due to the Malpais Legate's idiocy, to be honest he would gladly just pin the blame solely on his old rival.

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><p>An old legionnaire shouted at the throngs of recruits "Get moving scum! Everything needs to be ready for the Legate's arrival!" he pinched his nose in frustration as two clumsy Legionnaires knocked over a whetstone. He stomped over towards the two, to their credit they didn't whimper when they saw him, they just stood up and snapped to attention.<p>

They stared straight ahead, not daring to move a single muscle, "Etiam Triplicarius!" they used the proper greeting from a private to a Triplicarius.

He scowled "What the hell is going on here, worms?"

The one on the left straightened even further and answered "Sir! A simple mishap caused by myself and Miles Kranus!", the gruff veterean spoke again, his voice a low menacing growl "Clean this up or I will personally shove a javelin up both of your asses! Maybe I should pick out the dark mother tips for it!"

Kranus remembered their first meeting with Triplicarius Septim.

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><p><em>Fortification Hill. 2277.<em>

The stars had twinkled brilliantly above fortification hill. Legionnaire's of all colours, sizes and ranks milled about, some fixed their weapons, others kept to a strict training regime, others just walked about the camp, talking, laughing, joking.

One such group of Legionnaire's huddled around a campfire, enraptured by the tall and most likely false tales of an old Legionnaire, a veteran frumantarius by the name of Tullius.

he flailed his hands about, mimicing the slashing movements of a Deathclaw.

"It made a grab for me! But I was too quick, I dodged to the side and, with extreme skill I might add, took it down using my last throwing spear. It fell with a crash! I quickly pulled out my fifteen other spears from its hide before the rest of its pack got to me. A baby lunged at me first, its claws were as big as my head, even at that age! I ducked to the side and kicked it away, just in time for its mother to charge towards me, its mouth open, it was like looking into a pitch black maw I tell ya. I flashed a smug grin and pulled the pin on my lone grenade, it seemed to be guided towards the mother's mouth, as if by the hand of Caesar himself. I kicked the Mother in its chest, sending it tumbling back towards its pack and started running. And then..."

"And then what?" a small boy asked, a Legionnaire in training.

The old Vet seemed to pause dramatically. The crowd of young ones and recruits leaned in expectantly.

With a explosive shout the old coot yelled "BOOM! Blood and guts everywhere, an eyeball landed on my nose even! And that is how I saved the village of Dry Log."

The crowd of young boys cheered and laughed as the Old Man fell quiet, he had a satisfied look on his old face.

A shadow fell over the group as a silent figure stepped into the firelight, a rugged and tough face they saw, with one grey eye piercing through them like they were nothing. The other eye was hidden behind a black eyepatch. His suit of salvaged power amour gleamed in the firelight, his armour was painted in charcoal and crimson, the colours of the Legion. A red light glowed softly, emanating from the visor of his helmet, held by his right arm.

Some of the young ones dove behind the older recruits, not wanting to been seen by the monster.

a deep rumble was heard from the intimidating figure, sounding like a storm from the divide to the recruits, but to Tullius it was a chuckle.

Tullius nodded his head "Triplicarius Septim, what brings you here on this fine night?", the golden medals on his lapel gleamed in the light, catching the attention of a few young ones.

Septim walked towards the group, his armour's joints grinding slightly as they worked.

"Not one of your stories again is it?" his voice was gruff and deep, the Frumantarius shrugged. He moved towards the circle, stopping just behind two recruits in their late teens. He loomed over them like a great shadow.

The one next to his left boot gulped nervously, the other one just kept a steely gaze towards the fire.

"What are your names, recruits?" he asked them.

The one on the left answered first "Re-re-re-" he closed his eyes, focusing. He opened them "Recruit Leo sir!" he answered.

"And you?" directing his question to the one on the right"

The youth picked up a stick and absent mindedly poked at the fire, he answered Septim "Recruit Kranus sir."

Septim nodded as he studied the youth. _A rebellious one, no doubt about it, heh, he has potential._

* * *

><p>Mags sighed as she patrolled the middle stretch of Hoover dam, whistling tunelessly as she looked out over the river towards the south. Bored out of her skull, she picked up a tiny rock and bounced it in her gloved hand, it was a strange little rock, Jet black with streaks of white crisscrossing all over its smooth surface, it reflected the sun brilliantly, giving off a bright array of colours, reflecting off Mag's service rifle. Enthralled by its intricate patterns, she noticed a red haired, fair skinned trooper walking towards her, shaking her head clear she turned to him.<p>

"Yeah O'Callaghan, what is it?" she asked. putting the pretty little rock in her pocket, a souvenir.

"It's time, Mags- I mean- Sir." O'Callaghan replied nervously

"Time for what exactly?" she impatiently asked.

"The Generals inspirational speech." He flatly replied, rolling his eyes.

"Great, another show by the Great General wait-and-see" She sighed, almost all of the soldiers and officers of the NCR Army agreed that 'General' Oliver, using that word very loosely, was only in it for the fame and Money, his way of doing things just meant throwing soldiers at the enemy until he suffocated under all of the corpses, then he sent in the heavy's to clean up the mess, usually waiting until the battle was at its most desperate minute to do so, hence the nickname. She hefted her rifle over her shoulder and called out to the other two members of the Misfits, a trooper who looked like he never bathed, with a dirty purple Mohawk that he called a hair style. And a weasley man with glasses.

"Misfits! Time for the show, let's go!"

* * *

><p>The short man stood on a podium in front of the gathered soldiers, his General Bars gleaming in the early morning sun; he cleared his throat as he addressed the sea of brown.<p>

"Men and Woman of the NCR Army, you all know what you are here for; I don't need to tell you that. What I do need to tell you is that every single one of you can and will make a difference here, on this God-almighty wall of concrete." He smiled inwardly, impressed at how inspiring his speech would be.

"The NCR needs you to stem the tide of the degenerate Legion, stop them here and we stop them everywhere!", he noticed that some of the Rangers in the audience seemed to roll their eyes at his speech, of course he couldn't really tell because of the Helmets they wore

'I'll deal with them later' he mentally noted. He kept a determined and grim look. He continued "Soldiers, Rangers, you know what to do, for the Bear, for your families! Get to it." he stepped off the podium.

* * *

><p>The Courier looked out at his pitifully small army, no scratch that, this was a strike force, and it was comprised of twenty trigger happy Boomers, a squad of heavily armed old folk, and of course him and his companions, The Brotherhood would arrive during the battle.<p>

He glanced at his companions, Boone simply nodded, Cass winked, Veronica punched him playfully, Rex barked happily, ED-E beeped, Raul shrugged, Arcade gave him a thumbs up, all encouraging him to stand up tall. He walked out in front of his army and cleared his throat.

"I'm not good at these, so its goanna be short and simple" He began "I may not be the right man for the job, but I was there, at the right time, so this it. I'm most definitely not a leader, hell! I'm not even a soldier. I'm just a messenger, wanting to deliver his message to the NCR and Legion. But I know that New Vegas can't be ruled over by the likes of them or Mr House, but I promise you this. We. Will. Get through this. The Brotherhood will be here soon to back us up, and Yes Man's robots will come through the Legion lines, no matter how small a group we are, we will succeed, fight for your homes, your families and your cultures. Let's go!" The Courier finished. he walked off through the bush and onto the road to Hoover Dam, his companions followed him, as did his army.

_The Wild Card was in._


	3. Chaos

Chapter 3: Chaos

Poindexter scanned the eastern approach to Hoover Dam, the early-morning sun reflecting off his glasses. Next to him stood a tall youth with a shock of red hair contained under his brown helmet, cradling a rusty caravan shotgun in his long, narrow arms. The youth peered anxiously into the dusty road passage that wound into the hills, towards fortification hill. His mouth went dry at the prospect of fighting the Legion, just fighting at all actually, he wasn't for it, didn't have the right mindset. He was the minority where he came from, a ranch just outside of Klamath, a town where shooting was the norm, most of it directed at wasteland critters. It wasn't that he actually loved Deathclaws and Geckos, for all he cared, they could go extinct and he wouldn't miss them. No, he just hated guns, the smell, the look, the effect, the result. It was all designed to end a life, something which he disagreed with. It didn't help that his Dad happened to build the farm on top of a bunker filled to the roof with guns.

he shook the thoughts loose, and focused on trying to remember what Colonel Moore told everyone about how the Legion fought.

* * *

><p><em>General Oliver left the stage, and headed towards his office with his bodyguard. The mass of soldiers talked quietly amongst each other until a strong female voice silenced the crowd<em>

"_Shut up and listen Troopers, I'm gonna make this talk short and sweet." _

_The Colonel walked onto the podium and gestured to the screen behind her as a very rough map of Hoover Dam and surrounding area sputtered and flickered. _"_This is, as anyone smart enough to wear a helmet should know, Hoover Dam." she then swept her arm to the right side of the screen, settling over a mass of square blocks. _"_The Legate's camp is only a kilometre or so up the road; our 1__st__ Recon boys and gals kindly offered to scope out the Legates camp and determine the Size of the Legion Army, it is currently comprised of 2,880 Men, divided into 6 Cohorts, further divided into several Centuriae. A Centuriae is comprised of about 80 men or so and separated into ten 8-man squads." She paced back and forth across the podium. Slapping a pointer against her hand._

"_They won't be able to fit all of that number onto the battlefield at once, so at the start of the battle we'll be dealing with only one or two Cohorts. A few murmurs rippled through the audience._

"_Now onto the order of battle for our cross dressing foe. They always start the first wave by sending in their newest recruits, who are equipped with simple machetes and occasionally throwing spears.  
>The Legion are experts at blitzing a defensive line. So if we manage to survive the first onslaught on the dam's eastern edge, we'll be able to suppress the second wave with our MG crews. During all of this they will try to infiltrate several of their scouts into the sub levels of the dam, to shut off power to the turrets on the Rim and cause chaos behind our line.<br>Their second wave will consist of the more experienced Legionnaires with Veteran Decanii leading them, if we're lucky, we might be able to find a few Centurions near the rear of the second wave. Some of the Legion on this wave will be equipped with SMGS and Hunting Rifles, so be careful."  
>She paced a little bit more until she reached the middle of the podium and stopped.<br>__Colonel Moore held up her hands, and flexed her fingers down "The so called 'Monster of the East' will be on this one, so be very cautious. We won't be able to completely destroy the bulk of their army, so our goal is to kill their leaders and cripple their mobility. Their Legate and Centurions are our prime targets; this is where the Rangers and heavy's come in. The heavy's will smash through the first wave and second waves of Legion, clearing a path to the Hills on that side of the river for the Rangers. They're gonna get the most fun, unfortunately, b__ut for all this to work, we need to hold the Dam. __I'm won't lie like some of the higher-ups would, we're gonna lose a lot of people here, all I can say is good luck to you all, now move out!"  
><em>

* * *

><p>"O'Callahan continued to fidget with his shotgun until a soft pale hand settled on his shoulder, steadying him.<br>He licked his lips nervously and craned his head at his sergeant.

Th-thanks Mags" he said to the blonde woman standing behind him.

"Its okay, Cal, just the jitters, they'll go away soon enough" She smiled encouragingly at him as he started to breathe in deeply, trying and failing to calm himself down. She felt the exact same way, possibly even worse. She was squad leader, and she had a image to uphold; besides, Rangers might be watching her at this exact moment. Poindexter frowned at this interaction between the two, he sneered at them both. "Why do you feel the need to encourage him, Sergeant?"

Mags stared at him as if he just grown two heads, she quickly shook the thought out of her head, "Poindexter would be worse with two heads_"_ Mags muttered under her breath. She responded.

"Because shit for brains, it's the right thing to do! Now shut up and keep watch on your firing arc!"

She was about to say more when she saw a dust cloud form up the road to the East, blocking everyone's view of the Eastern cliffs. It wasn't until she saw the silhouettes in the cloud and heard the war cry that she realised what was happening.

She punched the alarm next to her, filling the air with a shrill wail. "First wave incoming!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. All along the defensive line, squads hunkered down, checked ammo, said prayers, and readied themselves for the onslaught.

Colonel Moore watched from the top of the Dam's central tower, a pair of customised Binoculars raised to her grey eyes. She quickly fumbled around in her pocket for her radio, grasping the small rectangular device she brought it up to her lips

"Gunner Murphy, fire barrage-forty cal-across the eastern approach into the bulk of the first wave, conserves 120s and 200s for the second and third waves." She ordered through the radio.

"Gotcha Ma'am, bringing guns to bear, hold onto yer helmet" a gravelly voice from the other end replied.

She looked over and saw the Dam's Howitzer rotate on its pedestal, the long smooth bore barrel pointing up into the sky. She thumbed the button on the side of the radio, broadcasting to all units. "Troopers, artillery firing. Keep your heads down" she turned off the handheld and pulled her bodyguard back into the tower as the Howitzer began to pound the the path in front of the horde.

* * *

><p><em>Hoover Dam, Eastern Bank.<em>

Optio Legilus was thrown back by the force of the first shell, his ears ringing as he struggled to stand, he quickly studied the situation, all around him lay twisted bodies, some twitching as life drained out of them. He looked for the members of his squad. He found the four of them cowering behind a half-vaporised rock. He stalked over; the squad gulped and shuddered in terror as he came towards them.

"On your feet, maggots! Get fucking moving or I will personally gut you where you cower right now! Move it!" he bellowed. The men around him yelped and shouted, and ran towards the enemy, yelling a battle cry while waving their pathetic weapons about them. The same general order was spat out at squads all across the killing ground, young boys were often the first to charge, eager for glory and respect, and paid a blood price, men ran forwards as well, often tripping over the twisted heaps of the young boys, they would brandish their machetes in fierce defiance of the rifles of the NCR line, and paid a blood price.

Some among their number had the forethought of throwing their machetes and healing powder, hoping it would blind and disorient the NCR soldiers. Machetes whipped through the air at a terrible speed, a technique that was repeated by tribals across the wasteland in their hunts. But these weren't Bighorners or Great Plains Oxen. But the time honoured hunting techniques of former tribes was not enough as their machetes clattered and thudded uselessly into the sandbags. Hundreds upon hundreds drove at the line of two hundred, trying to flood the defenses with numbers. But one magazine held the lives of three Legion squads, and soon enough the first onslaught began to stall, and fell back to the safety of the hills and brush.

Most of the line tensed up as they waited for the second assault to begin, but after twenty minutes or so it never came. Machine gunners relaxed as they worked on their guns, rifleman sat down in groups behind the sandbags, playing cards and generally trying to keep busy. The few sniper units that were on the line cleared away spent shells, and meticulously cleaned their weapons. The spotters would take notes of the enemy positions, making sure they always knew where the enemy rested. This fragile lull didn't last. fifteen minutes later, a another dust cloud appeared, one even larger the the first, soldiers quickly manned their positions, every gun in the line pointed towards the cloud. Spears, Machetes and even Rocks flew out of the cloud towards the defenders, it was a ineffective tactic in terms of kill count, but that wasn't the point. As some of the positions were distracted by the storm of weapons, a massive unified roar thundered out of the cloud.

"FOR THE SON OF MARS!" NCR soldiers groaned as they prepared for another onslaught, reaffirming their aim on the cloud. Many of the Legion rank-and-file were nothing but illiterate Tribals who wanted gain glory for their unit, or were just in it for the pillaging and rape, others, usually the more intellectually oriented of their former tribes, were forced to run, usually at the front. It was a stroke of misfortune that they happened to be absorbed by a war-machine that worshipped glory and martial strength. A huge mass of crimson and black clad recruits came first, brandishing their signature ramshackle machetes and in some cases dynamite. The defensive line opened fire, absolutely devastating the first line, recruits howled and screamed as the hot metal bit into them. Many died on the spot, but the line wore on, getting closer and closer to the sand-bag wall. They took advantage of the reload lulls to run forwards, and threw themselves to the ground when the machine guns came to life. While hugging the ground did protect them from the machine gun emplacements somewhat, it provided no relief from the individual squads, whose M1 Garands and service rifles barked as they fired continously into their prone forms. Blood filled the cracks of the concrete, overflowing onto the smooth parts of the Dam's surface, making some parts of the area treacherous and slippery. The momentum of the second wave came to a standstill as the stench of the corpses and nauseous fumes began to affect the less disciplined of both sides. NCR privates gagged and coughed as the pile of bodies in front of the wall grew. Those soldiers who wore facewraps grumbled as they quickly pulled it over their mouths and noses. The stench became a miasma.

Thus closed the first five hours of the second battle of Hoover Dam.

Little did both sides know that this was only a whimper compared to the roar of the main event.

* * *

><p>Vulpe hid behind a bush, his binoculars poking through the leaves, he watched the NCR line throw wall and wall of lead at the second wave, bodies piled up on the eastern end of the Dam, blocking line of sight for the NCR line. He put them down, and raised a open palm upwards, his fingers closed into a fist, signalling for his troops to get into position. No uniform adorned them, as they didn't need one, instead the soldiers of this centurio wore a mix of metal and leather armours, a curious sight in the highly organized forces of the Legion, the only thing that stayed a constant in their appearance was a fearsome wolf mask, and torn crimson mantle, they weren't as well trained as the Praetorian Guard, or as cunning as the Fruumantarri themselves. No, they were the jack-of-all trades for the Legion, their wild cards. They were the element that would turn the battle on its head.<p>

They were the Reavers.

Vulpe picked up the binoculars again and cotinued his recon of the battle, after scanning over the sandbag walls, machine gun emplacements and myriad squads hunkered along the defensive line, Vulpes noted one slight incovenience.

The line was at a equal defensive strength along its whole length, if the NCR were to be commended for anything, it was their surprising affinity for defensive positions and strategic locations. He felt a stab of pride when he remembered his part in the fall of Fort Aradesh. He continued his survey, he noticed that the NCR didn't keep fuel drums, as they weren't a mechanized force, like some of the raider tribes the Legion usually faces down. But instead he saw that boxes of grenades dotted the whole position. He also saw the tell-tale red berets of the 1st recon degenerates. He had his targets.

He pulled out a map of the battle area, and circled the primary areas with a old pencil. He called the squad leaders to him and they did the same to their maps. Once they had finished he sent back to their soldiers. Vulpe keyed his radio "We have our target Reavers, target the points on the map of you squad leader, and aim for the 1st Recon scum and their MG nests. Let us deal the Bear a killing blow!" a horrible fire had appeared in his eyes.

* * *

><p>The pile grew higher and higher still, with the decimated first wave of Legionnaires clambering over their dead, using them as makeshift walls between them and the withering hailstorm of bullets hurtling towards them. A few of the more experienced Legionnaires carried frag grenades, and use them to great effect by throwing them at squad positions and dropping them off the Dam, denying the NCR flanking maneuvers at the bottom of the Dam. But that didn't help the situation of the second wave and soon enough, a wave that consisted of 1,200 men, was reduced to 300 hundred pinned down behind the bodies of their friends and comrades.<p>

Support gunner Alvarez chomped on a cigar as he deftly swapped out an empty box of ammo for a new one, he checked that the box was secure by punching it up into the gun three times. And cocked his Browning M2 once again. He popped the head of any dumbass Legionnaires who were stupid enough to leave a body part out in the open. A manic grin formed on his face as a handful of Legionnaires charged bravely towards the emplacement, he laughed and cut them down. Next to him, an afro-American soldier spotted for him

"Movement 3'O clock - very messy kill there, Sir" he swept the area in front of them for more soldiers. He spotted a sizeable group of forty charging towards them. "target- half a Centuriae- 10'O clock" a hail of bullets interrupted him; he coughed and spluttered in the smoke. "correction-no target." He looked down at his partner, "Do you have to smoke that damn thing?" Alvarez shouted over the noise of his Deuce "What! Speak up, Montana!", Montana grimaced "I said would you- grenade!" a pipe bomb with rusty nails sticking out of it bounced off of the Browning, and landed on their two-way, he grabbed Alvarez, and threw him out of the nest, he tore off his helmet and jammed it on top of the grenade.  
>The pressure wave threw him into a wall, his hands cut to ribbons by shrapnel. Montana screamed in pain. the nerves in his arms tingled painfully, as if a thousand nails rushed up each one. His back hurt terribly and for a few frightfuly seconds was numb. He couldn't move his legs either. He screamed in pain.<p>

Alvarez quickly dropped the Browning and ran over, dodging a stray spear or machete. On his way he grabbed the medkit. He came to a stop in front of Montana and knelt down, opening the medkit, he rummaged through the contents, knocking empty syringes, triangle bandages and tourniquets out of the way in search for the gauze. He found a elusive roll and quickly steadied Montana.

He stared straight into Montana's eyes. "Hey don't close your eyes, don't fall asleep! I'll fix you up and get you to a Medic okay?".

Despite the pain Montana weakly nodded "Yes Sir." Alvarez studied the areas that were the worst. His arms were cut to shreds by the shrapnel that escaped the helmet, blood covered both arms entirely. His face was going pale, not a good sign for someone with dark brown skin. He unwrapped the gauze and rolled it around Montana's arms, covering them entirely. He made sure the gauze was firm but not constricting and cut off the excess. Almost immediately dark red patches began to appear through the bandages. He did it just in time. he focused on his back, he didn't want to risk moving him just yet. "Montana, can you feel your back?".

Montana nodded weakly "A little bit." His eyes started to flutter as he began to lose consciousness once more.

Alvarez cursed. He didn't have much time. He couldn't do anything else for him. "Montana listen. Listen!" Montana's head lolled. Alvarez shouted " Corporal Adrian Montana, I am your superior and you will stay alert!"

That did the trick, Montana's eyes focused on Alvarez, but not for long.

Alvarez looked around for a Medic, he spotted one moving at the opposite side of the duty tents. "Hey! Hey! Get over here, I've got wounded!" He shouted at the squirrely young Medic.

The young man sighed and ran over, holding his helmet on tight. He set his doctor's bag next to Montana and knelt down beside it. His gloved fingers picked clumsily at the clasps, he got it open, revealing a much more advanced and versatile medical suite.

He shouted words of encourage to Montana "Your going to be fine!" he held up a syrette "Want some med-x?", Montana laughed weakly "Sure, sure just get it in Doc." the medic nodded, he motioned for Alvarez to hold the syrette while he cleaned and re-dressed his arms, while unwrapping Montana's left arm he noticed that it seemed to stick out at a odd angle, he quickly motioned for Alvarez to grab a arm sling from the bag. He put one end of the sling around the outside of the arm and behind his shoulder, so it came to rest on the opposite shoulder. With the other end he placed it in front of the arm and shoulder, he then carefully shifted Montana's arm into the pouch of the sling, he finished off the sling with a reef knot.

The Medic sighed with relief when he found that the other arm wasn't broken, he applied a burn salve before re-bandaging it.

He then picked up the syrette, flicked it twice and injected it into Montana's right arm. A few minutes later Montana's body relaxed as the drug did its work.

Satisfied, the Medic closed his bag and went to stand, a hand stopped him "Thanks doc." Alvarez said.

The Medic replied "Don't thank me yet, we still need to get him to the infirmary." Alvarez nodded and went to stand "Well what do I need to do?"

"Stay with him while I get a stretcher."

* * *

><p>Vulpe watched as the second wave of the horde regain their momentum, hurling themselves at the line of riflemen and machine gunners. He grinned wolfishly. "All units, rain destruction on the NCR scum!", a maelstrom of sniper fire and puffs of smoke rang out around him. The first targets to be hit were the front line MG posts, sand bags and wooden planks were pulverised by the explosions as were the men inside them, ammo cooked off, causing dissarray among the supporting elements of the defense. Officers motioned for soldiers to quickly wet the ammo stores, trying to stop any more ammo from being set off. The snipers aimed for these Officers, many were silenced in the middle of an order, causing widespread panic among the troops as they tryed to regain cohesion. Mags and her squad were in the middle of this panic, Poindexter shouted among the gunfire and screams "Seargeant we have to move to a more viable position!" They had put themselves in a holding position, able to cover all approaches and angles of attack. A move that saved them from the counterattack.<p>

A Legion recruit screamed hoarsley as he charged with a machete, Mags spotted him and let loose with a spray from her battle carbine. Bullets ripped into his stomach, pulverising his insides and punching into him. He coughed and gasped as he fell, twitching once before going still. O'Hanrahan averted his eyes from the sight, and Mags a look of disgust on her visage. A machete whipped past her head, she cursed and turned, training her rifle onto a grizzled Veteran Legionnaire. He yelled a death cry and charged forward, seemingly unfazed by the rifle barrel pointed directly at him. Mags tensed as she began to squeeze the trigger. She noticed a glint in the man's eye and paused for a brief second. He brought his other arm out from behind him, cupping a live grenade.

_Oh fuck he's going to charge!_

The Reavers had given the horde a chance to move forward.

The horde yelled a death cry as they charged as one, spears dipped in dark mother poison impaled Riflemen and Machine gunner alike as the order of battle fell into a free for all. Riflemen charged with fixed bayonets, snipers utilized their SMGS and bowie knives to great effect. Machetes bit through the armour of the riflemen, they weren't designed to kill however, and more often then not, they left wounded soldiers behind, but that was good for the Legion, who would gladly take them as slaves, the NCR fought bitterly to get the wounded out of there, but more often then not, the Legion dragged them off into the smoke, screaming the whole way. Speculatore's bellowed war crys as they rallied their comrades whenever they faltered, Snipers worked to counteract this but they were too many, the service rifles barked and the LMG's roared in unison, a symphony to match the Legion cry, The two armies clashed against each other, struggling for the advantage, rifles began to jam as the battle wore on, becoming nothing more then clubs, close quarters with the Legion was an almost death sentence for any one squad, but with the combined combat training of everyone there they bitterly held their own. Soon enough the Legion began to falter, running out of room to throw spears and machetes they fought like beasts.

Chaos at its finest.

But chaos was what the Legion was born of, and chaos was what the Legion excelled in. They pushed the NCR line back, claiming the Eastern approach. The battle stalled for a while as the NCR fell back, and the Legion waited, baying for blood. Everyone prepared for the long night ahead.


	4. Longus Nocte Procedit

**Chapter 4: ****longus ****nocte ****procedit**

_NCR defensive line. Hoover Dam. 6:00PM_

The last rays of the Mohave sun fell short of the ground, stopped in their tracks by mighty dark clouds bearing down from the north, the land was blanketed in darkness, and not even the stars would shine tonight.

A light spray of rain patted down over the top of the wall, creating a orange haze around the lit up NCR positions. Mags slumped down against a wall of sandbags, her helmet leaning forwards over her face, rifle resting on her forearms. Her eyes were downcast as she rested there, trying to recover some stamina and willpower for the next onslaught. All across the NCR's positions this was seen, on privates without a unit, snipers without a spotter, and on weary field medics. A MRE lay abandoned near the butt of her rifle, the contents undisturbed. She shivered as the memory of blood, fear and screams came rushing back, she felt like crying, but nothing came out. Her hands shook as she remembered the meaty thunk her of her rifle as she clubbed a legionaire. She stuck her hands under her armpits, attempting to quell the shaking. Luckily no-one was around to see her like this, at least that was a small relief. A bearded support gunner walked by, tearing into a MRE. His boots crunching on loose bits of concrete as he stopped in front of her. She sniffed as she looked up at him, tears carving furrows in on her dirt encrusted cheeks. He sighed, and sat down next to her, his prized browning nestled in the crooks of his elbows as he fumbled around for some polishing and cleaning agents. Silence descended over them as the rain thickened, sagging the canvas shelters with their weight. After a while Mags spoke.

"I've always aimed high, Alvarez. Always gunned for the big jobs, the high-risk and high-reward ops, I was on the fast track to a place with the Rangers, I knew it back at boot camp, my instructors did too. That's why they pushed me far more then any other recruit there. Then I messed up. I did. Not the squad, nobody else, just me. Remember Bitter Springs?" Alvarez's eyebrow rose up.

She sighed and closed her eyes, "I was the one who called in, who mistranslated the orders. Got alot of people hurt." Alvarez was speechless.

The rain grew heavier and heavier, turning into a downpour. _Must be hell for the troops down the sides _Alvarez noted.

She continued on.

"Then I got stuck with the misfits, the so called "worst squad ever", a pacifist farm boy, a know it all slacker, and a messed up raider. Sorriest bunch I ever saw. They all said we couldn't do anything right, no one believed in us. Well. Except for McCredie." her hands clenched in frustration. " I- We- proved them wrong, made them into some pretty damn good grunts, even _Poindexter_ managed to scrape through" Alvarez chuckled. "But that was all before, well" she held her palms up, gesturing to the whole area. "This. This fucking blood-bath. I have to take them in once again, and make them heroes." she sobbed once more, "And there I was thinking back then how fantastic it would feel to be a Ranger." tears welled up in her eyes. "But you know what? Screw that for a joke, Rangers get into terrifying stuff like this everyday, most of the time while alone out there! I can't even handle just sitting here waiting for those savages to come! How the hell can I face up to voluntarily taking their lives and risking others!"

the rain grew heavier, making the canvas roofs sag audibly.

She broke down into tears, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Damn this." Alvarez said to no one in particular.

* * *

><p>O'Hanrahan bent down, placing his rifle against a line of sandbags; he unclipped his water bag and took a long draught from his water bag, making sure to hydrate before his watch came up. He wiped his lips with his hands; and clipped it back onto his belt. Picking up his rifle he began to make his way to a hastily constructed lean-to, in it lay four brown packs with sleeping bags rolled up and placed next to them, and one rucksack filled with ammo and extra medicine. He sat down next to his, and pulled the zip, revealing a small heap of objects. He poked his hand through the pile, rummaging for something very important, the back shifted slightly and rattled as heavy arms fire chattered away in the hills on both sides of the river, just because the main offensive had started didn't mean the other positions weren't under siege. Poindexter scratched his neck as he walked, he snagged a roll of duct tape from Razz's pack, normally he wouldn't dare touch his stuff, but Razz had been missing for a few hours and he wasn't in any hurry or mood to look for him.<p>

He sat down near O'Hanrahan and held his glasses in the palm of his gloved hand, and began wrapping the tape around the joint, taking longer than usual, something to do was better than nothing to do.

* * *

><p><em>Hoover Dam, central tower. 7:00PM<em>

Disposable lanterns were scattered around the room, struggling to keep even half of the room lit. The reach of the lanterns ended in front of a four star general and his colonel, gathered around a central map of the battle raging below.  
>Oliver clasped his hands behind his back as he scrutinised the map. Colonel Moore tapped the edge of the table with a gloved finger, waiting for a late Courier to arrive with some news about the Legion. Oliver rubbed his chin as he formed plans and strategies.<br>"Colonel, what's our current battle strength?"

Moore sighed as she answered "We have at least 500 people currently on the D line, with another 300 in the bowels of the Dam. And another 200 spread out among the cliffs fending off flanking manouevers across the river." she focused her attention on the Dam's wall, and the five red little blocks lined up side by side. She mentally groaned as she saw the huge forest of black and crimson blocks on the Dam's eastern approach. She then wanted to punch Oliver in the face when her eyes swept over a staggered collumn of 'specialised troops' situated near Boulder. Ranger's and Heavie's would be invaluable on the D line right now, especially with the night settling in. the wooden table made a quiet scratching sound as her finger dug into the weak wood. Oliver didn't notice.

He focused on the specialised collumn of troops, mentally checking deployment times and what orders they would be given. he switched his gaze to Colonel Moore, and gave her a curt nod "What are the reports saying?".

She clapsed her hands behind her as she began "Our battalion on D line is operating at a third of their efficiency, partly due to weather and casaulties, which are currently at 100 wounded, and 30 KIA." she swept her hand to the smaller blocks on the western bank "So far our defending units have repelled a combined force of at least 200 Legionnaires, although..." her hand hovered over three small red blocks right next to the Dam's wall "3rd battalion reported that while engaged with 40 assailants, 10 escaped into the facilities at the bottom of the Dam, they have a direct path to the generators, Sir" Oliver responded with an annoyed grunt. She noticed the bags under his eyes. Not a good sign.

He looked up at her, his bars gleamed in the dull light "What about our specialists? The Heavy's and Rangers?", Moore focused her gaze on the forest of triangle blocks scattered in the hills behind their side of the river dam. "we have at least 10 squads of Heavys, hunkered down in the hills in the area. They will wait for the enemy's final push and break through their lines, taking the enemy's doorstep." she paused for a moment. "Sir if I may?" she inquired. "yes Colonel?" she bent over the table, her hands resting on either side of the map. "Why can't we release the Heavy's now? D line is taking a pounding sir, and the Legion already had us outnumbered at the beginning of the battle." Oliver rubbed his chin with a gloved hand "I have my reasons Colonel, and you may be surprised to know they aren't about glory or dramatics."

Moore's cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment "sorry sir, the troops..." He silenced her with a sweep of his arm "Yes I damn well know what the troops think of me! Now shut up and listen Colonel!" he brought his fist down the table, rattling the blocks.

"Three reasons why I can't send them down to the Dam. One." he rose one finger "They aren't equipped with night vision or thermal scanners, making target aquisition impossible. Two." another rose up "Movement is restricted on the Dam at the best of times, if I sent them now they would be fighting in close quarters, and since their armour is scavenged, their combat effectiveness will plummet. And lastly?" his third finger rose "I just had intel come in that the Courier is on his way here, we can let him bloody the Legion and weaken his forces. That'll teach that bastard to cross the Bear!", a dangerous fire shone in his eyes.

But Moore didn't care, her face was a mask as she shook with rage and indignation. Her men were going to get slaughtered tonight just to satisfy this prick's ego! Oliver shouted at her, breaking her out of those dangerous thoughts "Dismissed Colonel!". She swallowed her pride and straightened, snapping off a salute as she exited the room. Oliver went over to his desk and and sat down with a heavy sigh, dragging a bottle of very old whiskey and a even older shot glass from his desk drawer. He set them both down on the old table with a wooden thunk. Dust tumbled around as it was disturbed by the impact. He picked up the little shot glass, studying it with sullen eyes. With a sigh he dropped it back into the drawer, grabbed the whiskey by the neck and took a long draught.

* * *

><p><em>Courier's camp, Western bank. 8:00PM<em>

The canvas mats formed a canopy over the camp site, providing cover and dryness from the heavy storm raging. Arcade sat on a rock, brooding. He had been travelling with the others for a month now, he was with them when the Courier drove the Fiends out of New Vegas, he was there when he and the others watched the Courier dissapear before their very eyes when he examined a strange satellite. He had been through a lot in a very short time, something which all of them can attest to. He realised that the last 3 months passed by at a quick pace, at least now that they have passed. At the time he met him, he was just a Doctor with the Followers, and even then not a great one. In the time since then he had killed so many living things, something which will probably skyrocket tommorow. The battle tommorow would be huge, even bigger then the siege of Navarro, which he saw as a terrified kid hiding behind his mother in a Vertibird with two soldiers, their commander, a doctor and a pilot. He wasn't sure if he would survive tommorow, nobody here was. His gaze steeled as he pushed down the dark thoughts. No! They would survive! If not for the Mohave, then at least for each other. A single nod finished his mental discussion.

"Something bothering you, boy?" a black giant loomed over him, peering down with a kind but wrinkled face. Judah Kreger.

He looked up at him "Just thinking about how many pieces of us will be cleaned up after tommorow."

Judah chuckled, his eyes shining in the warm glow of the fire. "You and your wit. You are very transparent, you know?"

Arcade grumbled "Am not."

Judah teased him "Yes you are! Your young friend told me herself!", Arcade protested "I am not transparent! I am a perfectly complicated man who just happens to hide insecurities behind intellectual wit and situational sarcasm."

Judah was unfazed "Well be that as it may, you aren't as aloof as you pretend to be."

Arcade grew serious "Yeah, I wish was though. It would help with alot of things." Judah fell silent.

The young man carried a lot of baggage.

"Hey, look." he placed an armoured hand on Arcade's shoulder. He made no motion to brush it off.

"From what I've heard you and your friends have been through a lot together, haven't you?" Arcade glumly nodded. "You've saved each other countless times?" He nodded again. Judah's face brightened "Well whaddya have to worry about then? As long as you guys stick together, you'll do fine. Its what we did at Navar-"

suddenly Judah fell silent, Arcade glanced at him, a deep sadness was in the old man's eyes, he suddenly looked very tired. He placed his left hand on Kreger's.

"We did it there, and We can do it here." was all Arcade said. They both stared at the fire, lost in its depths. The wind howled around them.

* * *

><p><em>Field outside of the Courier's camp. 2:00AM<em>

Huge droplets of rain splattered the parched ground, bringing much needed moisture into the ecosystem of the Mohave. Two figures crept after a huge mass of golden scales, their identitys obscured with heavy rain coats. It was nighttime in the desert.

The ground quaked as the massive Golden Gecko waddled into the clearing, towards the inviting pile of Yucca fruit in the center. Its orange eyes swiveled to sweep the brush around the clearing, checking for any scavengers or others of its brood. Satisfied, it croaked and flicked its tongue out, tasting the sweet nectar on the air.

It came to a stop in front of the pile, and tore in. Stuffing its face full of the sweet fruit. The two figures stayed out of sight while they watched it, one held a caravan shotgun and the other wore a strange contraption on her wrist.

The one holding the caravan shotgun chuckled "This will be easier then we thought huh?".

The girl with the contraption snorted "Sure, not like last time _right?_", she chuckled quietly.

The other one scowled "You can be such a bitch sometimes, Veronica." her face brightened and she chuckled, "I must be doing something right." Veronica gave her a wry smirk. Her green eyes darted up, keeping watch on the Gecko.

"Cass, its moving." She awkwardly gave a thumbs up to Cass with her power fist encased hand. Cass couldn't resist laughing at such a sight, she quickly covered her mouth when the Geckop stiffened and sniffed the air, trying to locate the source of the sound. Veronica raised her fist threatningly.

Cass mouthed a apology, and crept off into the brush, weaving in between a group of broken boulders, hardly making a sound. The Gecko made a low growl, its spines straightening to make it appear bigger, it lowered its head back to the Yucca, and began stuffing its face once more.

Cass searched for a rucksack she had brought along with them among the boulders. She found it wedged between two chunks of limestone. She zipped it open, and grabbed a lever action shotgun and a few slugs, she zipped it up and placed the shotgun on her shoulder strap.

Cass always had a plan for every hunt she did, alone or otherwise. Unlike Six, she didn't just go charging in and blasting the creature's head off with a city-killer shotgun, that made a lot of noise and it ruined the chances of skinning the beast effectively.

No, she planned it all out, planned exactly how much equipment she'd need and use, plan out the environment.

Of course apart from those times when she was hammered, these plans worked all the time.

She made her way out of the tangle, towards a patch of high grass just ten metres away.

Her boots made soft crunching noises on the gravel as she did a roadie run towards the patch. She was directly behind the massive bulk of the Gecko. The edge of the grass patch was just in front of her. Her movements were slow and deliberate as she pushed through the tall grass to the center of the patch. The Gecko still hadn't heard her. The center of the patch was devoid of any tall grass, only a soft mound of dirt. She dropped to her stomach, and crawled onto the mound. She slowly shifted the strap on the ruck sack, letting it slide of her shoulder with a slight rustling sound. Her hiding place had a direct line of sight to the Gecko, courtesy of a small gap between the tall grass.

Keeping one eye glued to the Gecko, she reached into the sack for her shotgun. She brought it towards her, and layed it just to her left. Her hand reached in once more, bringing out five heavy brass hunting darts, made for long range one shot kills.

With care and practice she snapped the shotgun's downwards, exposing the loading chamber for the shot. She slotted a dart round into the chamber, with a smooth flick upwards, the shotgun's barrel was in position.

She settled into a prone firing position.

Much of their bait was eaten by now, soon the Gecko would be finished and they would miss their chance.

The air began to be filled with the stench of digesting Yucca fruit, Cass knew that this was a defense mechanism for the Geckos so that their scent could be masked, if any predators entered the area, the Gecko could just slip away. Works on animals, not people.

Cass took aim, the tiny space between the iron sights was occupied by the iris of the Gecko. She steadied herself, and held her breath as she squeezed the trigger.

The dart whizzed towards the giant, ripping through its left eye, yellow jelly and blood flowed from the trauma, a terrible scream came from the Gecko as it stomped and berserked, trampling the Yucca under its heavy feet. Its good eye swiveled around, searching for the source of the projectile. Its golden eye focused on Cass's hiding place. It stopped screaming, and assumed a low growl, its spines rose up.

It loosed a grating shriek that tore at Cass's ears and charged, its head level with her chest. She rolled out of the patch of tall grass, gaining a few scrapes and wet patchs on her jeans for her trouble. With the shotgun by her side she sprinted for a tangle of boulders, hoping to snare the beast there. As she ran at a breakneck speed through the Mohave scrub, she silently prayed that Veronica was coming up with a plan.

Soon she would be the appetizer of the Wasteland's most goofy predator. How humiliating.

Veronica was hidden in the swathes of tall grass on the other side of the clearing, as she saw the Giant Gecko turn and charge towards Cass, she swore.

"Shit, hang in there Cass!" She tightened the bolts on her power fist and vanished into the rightmost patchs of grass, cirumnavigating the clearing. She watched as Cass dove into a tumble of rocks, providing temporary respite from the Giant lizard. She came out of the patch of grass onto the gravel path, 50 metres to the right of the Gecko. She made her way to the Gecko at a crouched run, sneaking up behind it to distract and stun it.

Cass quickly opened the rucksack, fishing out buckshot rounds and slotting them into the Lever Action's barrel. the barrel section snapped upwards, connecting with the handle. The Gecko's face was wild and angry, it tried to shove its head into the rocks to get to its meal, but the gaps were too narrow. The lever action bucked as a round left the barrel, speeding towards the Gecko's thick neck, it ripped into it, tearing out chunks of flesh and ravaging the Creature's airway. She could hear a small choking sound come from it as it roared, it redoubled its efforts, digging deep furrows in the rocks as it tried to claw them out of the way.

Cass quickly loaded another round, to finish it off. She squeezed the trigger, a grinding noise came from the shotgun as the shotgun shell was ground into shards of metal and ball bearings at a incredible pressure, shredding the mechanisms of the Lever Action, the shrapnel found way out by way of the reloading break. Shrapnel slammed into Cass's left hand, slicing through the leather glove and shredding the skin inside. Cass screamed and clutched her hand, she backed off from the Gecko as the rocks began to tear away. The shotgun bounced on the rocks, and wedged itself in a crevice underneath Cass. The Gecko growled and leapt, its single terrible eye focusing on her blue eyes.

The maw of the Gecko grew large in her vision as it lunged towards her, claws outstretched towards her.

* * *

><p>Veronica was ten metres behind the giant as it began to loosen the rocks guarding Cass. Things were getting hairy. She crept forward a little bit, preparing to strike the Gecko. She relaxed as she saw Cass unload a round into the Beast, then start loading another. She could handle this herself.<p>

Then disaster struck, the shotgun misfired, wounding Cass and giving the Gecko the opening to attack. Veronica rushed forward, building up momentum. Four metres behind the giant she jumped, powerfist outstretched towards the Creature's shin. It collided against the leathery hide with colossal force, completely shattering its lower leg, and fracturing the upper leg, blood gushed out of the pulverised flesh, causing the creature to scream in pain.

* * *

><p>The Gecko roared, deafening Cass at this distance, it wasn't a roar of triumph though, but one of pain and surprise. She shuffled backwards, tumbling out of a gap in the rocks behind her into the open, sending puffs of dust up as she hit the ground hard. She groaned as she clutched her hand, she moved her right hand towards her pocket, fishing out a roll of gauze, she grabbed the end with her mouth, holding it with her teeth, she then wrapped it around her hand. She propped herself up against the rock, and tilted her head back, trying to catch her breath.<p>

_That happens way too often to me_.

Veronica ducked under a clumsy swipe, and struck with a powerful punch to the ribs, cracking a few, causing the Creature to stumble. She used the chance, sliding in under the Creature's chin and thrusting her fist upwards. The Creature's eyes lolled lifelessly as it finally gave up and crumpled to the ground. Veronica quickly rolled out of the way. She sat there on the ground, trying to catch her breath. She dusted herself off, and stood up, she faltered, a sharp pain went down her right leg as she put her weight on it, she stoppd for a moment. Putting her weight on her left leg she managed to move at a slow limp, she headed towards Cass, cursing along the way.

Cass wearily held a hand. "You okay, Veronica?".

She waved her off "Just a sharp pain in my right leg and a pretty raging concussion, no biggy." She sat down next to her, making sure to keep her right leg straight.

Cass's lips tightened in concern. "Good, good, have fun telling that to Arcade when we get back, I'm sure he'll love it.", she fished a med-x and a stimpack out of their rucksack, and tossed them to her. "Here. Knock Yourself out."

Veronica gave her a cheery smile, she unwrapped the Med-X and plunged it into her right leg, the pain coursing up it dulled a little, then almost dissipated to a throb. She looked at the stimpak longingly, but shrugged and handed it back to Cass. "You need it right now."

Cass nodded, she unscrewed the cap on the needle tip, a small grunt of pain escaped as she moved to inject her arm with the concoction. A flood of medicinal fluids, drugs, pain killers and boosters went through her, immediately washing the aches and pains away.

She threw needle tip away into the brush nearby, and stowed the dispenser in the rucksack.

They both tipped their heads back, resting for a bit, letting the cool air coming from the east wash over them.

A laugh escaped Veronica as she said "That was fun!", Cass cast a wry glance at her, she smirked.

"Yeah, I guess it was."

They both fell silent, across the river, a lone ray of sunlight broke out of the storm clouds, highlighting the rain it hit in a golden light.

Veronica spoke up. "It'll be dawn soon, is that when we move?".

Cass responded, her eyes downcast. "Yeah."

She wasn't sure who was going to be left standing tommorow.


	5. A Bloody Dawn

**Chapter 4: A Bloody Dawn**

_Hoover Dam Central Tower, 4:00AM_

A gas lantern in the central map room began to sputter, and winked out a few moments later, plunging part of the wide room into a dim haze of blackness. All around the room, technicians and radio operators yawned and stretched as they worked tirelessly. A door near the coffee machine swung open, revealing a young brunette, dressed in a dirty grey tank top and standard issue olive drabs. Her hair hung down to her shoulders in a tangled catastrophe. She held a tray on which balanced several paper cups with hot brown ambrosia in them.

She called out to the technicians in the room, raising her voice to rouse the exhausted ones. Weariness evident in her voice too. "Coffee guys, the cooks say we'll owe them for the next week." She took a circuit around the edges of the room, she handed one to corporal Stanning.

"Thanks, private." He nodded his thanks and took a sip of the brew, eyes closed in bliss. She gave him a tired smile and walked off, heading towards Lieutenant Poe, who sat in front of a complicated array of handhelds, receivers and antennas. He was busy receiving communications from a unit out on patrol.

"Captain where is your unit currently located?" He focused on the map of Hoover Dam next to him, which was split into several grid squares by thin black lines. She heard a unintelligible stream of words come from the handheld, the Lieutenant nodded and circled a small area on the Eastern Bank of the river, just north of the Dam.

"Alright captain, continue current operation, once you are finished call back and I'll put you through to the Colonel with your findings." He noticed her. "Ah, good morning Private Denton, what brings you her-"he trailed off, the smell of the coffee had reached his nostrils. "Is that real coffee?"

Denton handed a cup to him. "Yes sir top of the line from the farms over in Redding."

His eyes seemed to glaze over behind his thin glasses as he took a sip. He put the cup down, making sure to it would last. She gave him a warm smile and moved on.

After handing out all of the cups she walked back out of the room, her combat boots clacked on the grated floor of the Dam's hallways, a sound repeated throughout the structure, she turned right into a shorter hallway, which opened into a small side room, modestly furnished with a couch and several bunks. She sighed as she walked over to one of the bunks, and sat down on the drab green blanket. She bent down, untying her boots; she slipped her feet out of them, and wiggled her toes. She laid down on the bunk, her feet hanging off the bottom edge. She closed her eyes and dropped into a light sleep, dreaming of that cute Private in Alpha company...

A massive blast shook the warren of corridors and rooms, breaking the lights and plunging most of the interior of Hoover Dam into blackness, she woke with a start, eyes already scanning for Legion scum, her inner paranoid sated, she wriggled into her combat boots, and ran to her locker, she slammed the metal door open, grabbing her standard issue Garand and Colt 1911 sidearm, she looped the Garands sling around herself, giving her easy access to it during a fight. She slotted the brown coloured Colt into her hip holster, preloading it with a magazine first and keeping the safety on. Her combat knife glistened as she reached for it and its sheath, clipping it onto her belt. She donned her helmet and ran into the corridor, she burst into the map room.

"Everyone alright!" She shouted.

A few of the technicans groaned in answer. Corporal Stanning was kneeling over Poe, ensconcing his head in white gauze, Denton tried not to look at all of the red seeping through.

"Who's armed?" A few of them nodded in a reply.

"Good, you guys are the escort, get the others to the infirmary, then make your way to armoury 1."

A few pairs of eyes widened in comprehension, then narrowed in acceptance. She ran back out of the room, heading down the corridor past her bunkroom. She was guided by the noises of carnage and shouting, it got louder and louder as she approached the door to section C. She reached for the handle, grasping it and starting to turn it...the door shuddered violently as something, or someone, was thrown against it, she pulled back her hand and backed away from the door.

A group of soldiers ran into the corridor behind her. The Sergeant noticed her.

"Private Denton, get back from the door! They're coming through!"

She jumped, spooked by the booming voice, she quickly ran to them, sidling in next to the medic of the bunch, she drew her sidearm, flipping off the safety. All was silent except for the ominous crashes and dents being made in the heavy door twenty feet in front of them.

"So uh, does anyone know how many of them there are?" She asked, hoping and dreading an answer. The Medic next to her obliged.

"At least four Century's managed to make their way into the lower levels. So a lot." He had a grim look on him, making her face drop as well. He noticed this, and gave her a nervous smile.

"My name's Donny, but around here I'm called Fixer. Hazard of the trade you see."

She laughed nervously. "Yeah. I'm Jane, everyone calls me Dent or Denton."

"Dent?"

"I'm a bit...deadly, when it comes to heavy objects being put near me."

He chuckled. "Really? Hey about, when this is all over, you join us for a game?"

"Sure."

"Hey Fixer, stop picking up Dames and watch the door!"

"Shut up, Razz."

The Seargeant turned his fell gaze on them both, his calm green eyes making their Sphincters tighten in a primal horror.

"Can it."

They both answered. "Yes Sergeant."


End file.
